The Verity Chronicles
by Chasing Ideas
Summary: Verity is so much more than the Weasley twins' employee who has exactly one meaningless line in Half Blood Prince.  This is her story.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back! And in a new fandom. I have been so unmotivated lately (To which you reply: "Lately? It's been more than two years you loser!" and I go hide in a deep, dark corner of the universe), and incredibly busy. Blame it on school and a whole bunch of other stuff that's not worth getting into. I'm REALLY going to try to keep this one up, but don't expect super frequent updates. Every 3 to 4 weeks is my goal, since I have two other stories in the works, planning for NaNoWriMo (I finally got an idea! Success!), as well as three AP classes, preparing for All-state violin auditions, tech crew for the school musical, and figure skating. And, you know, a social life. Me? Over-scheduled? Nah...**

**Disclaimer: I am a sixteen year old American girl, not a forty-six year old British woman. Ergo, I am not JK Rowling and I do not own Harry Potter. The characters, major plot points, and basically anything can think of/recognize are hers.**

**Claimer (because I need to feel like I have the rights to _something_): This story is mine. All mine. Verity only has to be where Jo says she has to be for one line, and all the other plot details can go wherever I want them to. Yup, that's it. I own my own ideas. Way to state the obvious, Chasing Ideas. You should get an award.**

**Story: The Verity Chronicles**  
><strong>Premise: This story will actually give Verity a personality, since she gets exactly one line in HBP. It will mostly move forward from this point, but some chapters might be extended flashbacks into her childhood. We shall see.<strong>

**This first chapter is really short. Like, painfully short. Sorry. I just felt like it was a good place to stop and going further would disrupt the flow; future chapters will be a fair bit longer, and have shorter ANs. Okey-dokey, time to stop rambling now. To the story!**

_July 31, 1994_

Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm clock sprang to life, determined to wake its owner. Strategically positioned next to its owner's head, the alarm was loud enough to wake her quickly and efficiently, but quiet enough so that the occupants of the other bedroom would not hear it. The clock's owner, a young woman with pale skin, rosy cheeks, a slender build, and long blonde hair slowly rolled over, letting a faint groan escape from her lips. She looked at the clock. 4:00 a.m., it read. She groaned again, slightly louder, but not too much for fear of waking the sleeping figures in the other room. She did not want to get up at such an early hour. Her aching head was begging her stay in bed just a little bit longer. One hour; two hours, tops. Her tight muscles refused to stretch themselves out. Her joints cracked as she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position. As much as she did not want to get up, she had no choice. Staying here longer than she absolutely had to be was not an option, unless she had a death wish.

Finally, she managed to drag herself from the bed. She didn't bother to straighten the sheets; there was no point now. Quickly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a burgundy sweatshirt bearing the word "Salem" in navy, block printing, pulled a comb through her hair, and slipped on a pair of well worn Converse sneakers. She glanced around the room, making sure that she had everything. Clothes: check. Books: check. Photographs of her friends and family in a small album: check. Money, recently withdrawn from Gringotts: check. Quill, ink, a small, portable cauldron, three Cauldron Cakes, an apple, and a water bottle. Check, check, check, check, check, and check. All these had been shrunk down and packed in an innocuous black backpack since graduation back in June, waiting for the morning that her dad had the day off and didn't have to wake up at 5:00 a.m. Finally, she grabbed her most important item, her wand. Twelve inches, made of cherry with a dragon heartstring core, it had served her well over the past six and a half years.

She slowly opened the bedroom door and gingerly stepped out into the hallway. She padded down the steps, skipping over the sixth one, which was known to squeak no matter how many charms were placed upon it. Arriving in the large kitchen, she sat down at the wooden table. Streaks of the palest orange were just beginning to appear in the eastern sky. To the west, however, the landscape was deep blue and speckled with stars. She could see the impeccably maintained lawn surrounding the large farmhouse. The flowers were in full bloom, and the herb garden was bursting with plenty of useful herbs for healing and potion brewing. If she squinted, she could see the Morgan's house, where she had dutifully traveled each day for seven years for her elementary level schooling. Her house was wonderful. Large, airy, and bright, it had been a wonderful place to grow up. She hated to leave it, but she had to. She took a deep breath. This was the most difficult part. And the most crucial.

She slipped a piece of parchment from her bag, dipped the exquisite eagle feather quill she'd received as a graduation present into the inkwell, and began to write.

_Dear Mom and Dad, _she began.

_First, let me tell you how very thankful I am for these past seventeen and a half years. You have always been so caring, so kind, and so concerned for my well-being. That is what makes it so hard for me to write this letter. Like it or not, the day you've been fearing for months has finally come, and I'm too much of a coward to say goodbye to your faces. Can you blame me, really? You would only try to stop me, but you can't, and I would feel even worse than I do now. I have never intended to hurt you through my actions. I have to do this._

_ I tried so hard to be the daughter you wanted. I studied practically non-stop for my O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s, and I did well on them, you saw that. My teachers liked me, I had friends that you approved of, and I became valedictorian, but it wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't happy. Yes, in my fifth year I told Headmistress Walton that I wanted to become a lawyer, just like you, dad. Perhaps that was my biggest mistake; I lead you both astray. I always knew that I didn't want to go to college or jump straight into a career, I always knew that I didn't want to become a lawyer, and I always knew that I didn't plan to stay around very long after graduation. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I was scared._

_ I was so very scared. I knew that wasn't what you wanted for me. I knew I'd disappoint you. I knew you wouldn't be able to look at me the same way ever again. You believe in going to college, getting a good job, raising a family, following a traditional path without straying in the least. I believe in trying new things, taking chances, and constantly striving to learn and discover. Your opinions, your acceptance, they matter so much to me, and I know that I risk losing them both with my decision. That's why I hid my true desires from you for so long. I wanted our last few months together to be peaceful and loving, not filled with the awkward silence, sideways glances, and subtle hints that I should stay that have become our reality. I never wished for that to happen. I only want you to understand, so please try._

_ Granted, most parents would be surprised by my choice; I do not blame you for your reactions. I understand that I chose neither the traditional path nor the easiest one. My chosen path never caught on here in America, and it went out of fashion in Europe over a hundred years ago. But it's what I want; I hope you can see that. I think you've always known that I've never been one to be tied down; that I'd always want to keep moving, to learn more, and to see more, but you constantly hoped that it was only a phase, something I would grow out of someday. I'm sorry to shatter that dream, but it's not a phase. It's simply who I am. I want to take time, travel the world, see new sights, meet witches and wizards from other cultures, and get an idea of what I really want before I settle down. I want to go to England and watch the Quidditch World Cup. I want to study wandlore from one of the old masters, like Ollivander or Gregorovitch. I want to study dragons in Romania at the world's largest dragon preserve. I want to learn advanced logic and riddles from the Sphinxes in Egypt. I want to learn to speak Mermish, converse with alchemists, and go on a chimera hunt. I want to see the world and I want to find my place in it._

_ I don't know when I'll be back, to be honest. How can someone put a time limit on self-discovery? I will send letters frequently, fire call you when I can. Maybe you could even come to visit me sometime. I bet you'd both love Paris. I'll let you know if I ever go there. I'll be leaving from the D.C. International Portkey Terminal at 5:12 this morning, probably before you both wake up. I plan to go to London first. I want to see Diagon Alley, watch the final match of the World Cup, go to Hogsmeade, and maybe even speak with some of the esteemed professors of Hogwarts. I don't know where I'll go from there, but I do know this, and I want you to know it too: I love you. I'll always love you. I'll never stop loving you. This is goodbye, but only for now._

_Love, your daughter,_

_Verity Elizabeth Collins_

Verity rolled up the parchment, tied it off with a piece of dark purple ribbon, and placed it on the center of the table, propped up against a vase of wildflowers that she'd picked from the meadow behind the house the night before. She cleaned up a drop of ink she'd spilled on the otherwise spotless table, pulled on her backpack, and wiped a single tear from her eye. She checked her watch. 4:28 a.m. That gave her almost forty-five minutes to check in at the International Terminal and find a kiosk that sold coffee, preferably strong coffee. She had just one thing left to do now. She gathered her long hair into a low pony tail at the nape of her neck, leaving a small front section free. Without hesitation, she sliced her wand definitively just below the hair tie, and just above her eyebrow on the front section. She glanced in the mirror, satisfied with what she saw. This wasn't Verity. This wasn't "that nice, smart girl" that the other mothers were fond of talking about. She wasn't the valedictorian of the Salem Witches' Institute. She wasn't daughter of esteemed magical lawyer, John Patrick Collins. She wasn't the daughter of Mary Gwendolyn Collins, respected housewife, twice featured in "Magical Housekeeping Monthly." This was new Verity, confident Verity, world-travelling Verity. If she knew one thing, it was this: her life would never be the same again. Walking out of the front door of the house, she spun on the spot, Apparating into nothingness and refusing to look back.

**Review? Please? I don't care if you hated it, though I'd like actual feedback rather than flames. I'll give you virtual cookies and cake and stuff!**

**-Chasing Ideas**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm back! Finally. I know it's been longer than the three to four weeks I promised, but I literally have not had time to write. However, I have vacation this week, so I'll try to get a few chapters done and then post them over the next few weeks so the gap won't be so large again.**

**Thanks to everyone that reviewed! Oh, wait, NO ONE reviewed. *evil glare* Reviews, no matter how critical, are always appreciated, though needless bashing/flaming is just annoying. However, I would like to thank the two people who added this as to their story alerts, though I couldn't find you're names anywhere. You are appreciated though**

**Let's just all accept that the disclaimer (and claimer) I made in the first chapter apply to the entire story, because I really don't see the point in writing a disclaimer every single time. 'Kay?**

_July 31, 1994_

Verity stretched out her muscles and took several long, deep breaths once she materialized. She was in a derelict café that her father always came to when he had business in the city. The café was popular among the wizarding population since it provided an inconspicuous Apparation point and some of the best coffee on the east side of the Potomac. Though she'd legally been allowed to Apparate for nearly six months now, she didn't have a lot of experience and it still made her nauseous, especially over long distances. It wasn't even 5 a.m. yet, so the café was deserted except for a bored looking barista who merely gave Verity a wary nod as she stepped out into D.C.

The streets in the quiet residential neighborhood were practically empty; populated only by street vendors setting out their wares, businessmen trying to get in a full fourteen hour work day and still be home for dinner, and tourists determined to see every single sight the capital had to offer. Verity struggled to remember the route to the American Ministry of Magic as she wandered among the long, broad avenue. It had been nearly two years since her father had taken her along for a day of sitting quietly behind a desk while her father did paperwork and talked in a hushed voice to his colleagues. Leave it to the Ministry to set Bring Your Child to Work Day on a day when her father didn't have any cases.

They'd definitely walked north for a while, and then taken a right turn, before ending up at a park named after some wizard. She focused her mind on her History of Magic lessons, a difficult task after all the time she had spent trying to block them from her mind. He'd been a muggle-born; of that much she was sure. His parents had been proud people, devout Christians, and had refused to send him to a magical school. He'd later become president; his occasional outbursts of wandless magic had helped win some war or other. But that wasn't important. What was his name? It began with a k? No, a b? No, it was definitely an l. That settled, she began to think of surnames beginning with the letter l. Langdon, Locke, Larson, Lindbergh; none of them sounded right. Lincoln! It came to her suddenly and she had to keep from crying out. Lincoln Park, she was looking for Lincoln Park.

Of course, she had absolutely no idea where exactly Lincoln Park was. What with having Point Me spells and simply being able to Apparate anywhere you needed to go, wizards weren't exactly well renowned for their sense of direction. Luckily, she soon spotted a vendor who didn't look as though he would attack her in some dark alleyway.

"Pardon me sir," she began, trying to sound as polite as possible. He gave her a wary look. Perhaps that was a bit too formal for everyday conversation. "I seem to have lost my way. Could you point me towards Lincoln Park?" The vendor laughed and rolled his eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked incredulously, still laughing.

"Um, no?" Verity was beginning to think she was being conned and she would not stand for that. "Please. I need to meet someone and I've lost my way."

The vendor sighed. "Turn to your left, little lady." Verity turned. "Your _other _left." Verity felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. To her left, her proper left that is, she saw an expanse of trees rising from the concrete jungle and a sign that clearly read "Lincoln Park."

"Oh," she giggled. Let him think she was a stupid tourist; it's not like she would every see him again. "Thanks!" She turned and began to walk into the park. As she left, she overheard him murmur, "Stupid tourists." Verity didn't care. She'd passed the first hurdle, finding the park. Now all she had to do was find the stupid entrance.

The park was surprisingly crowded compared to the practically abandoned streets; young couples who'd presumably spent the entire night together saying their last goodbyes before sneaking back home, homeless people trying to get a few more minutes of rest before another long day on the streets, young mothers pushing their children in colorful strollers.

After walking halfway through the park, past the statue of Lincoln, Verity turned down one of the side paths. At last she spotted the place; a large maple tree with shimmering silver bark and bright red leaves, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer. A harried looking mother, trying to silence her young twins, walked by quickly, not even giving the tree a second glance. Muggles wouldn't see the tree, of course. Muggles could barely see anything, if you really bothered to think about it.

She approached the tree and felt a wave of magic spread over her. Anyone that passed by would simply see a path of grass; a completely ordinary sight in a well planned park with large spaces between its trees. Suddenly, a woman's face appeared on the tree. "Name," it intoned, sounding bored. Verity couldn't help but feel bad for the poor soul who had to project her face on a tree every day.

"Verity Elizabeth Collins," she replied automatically. Even though she was leaving everything behind, starting life as a new Verity, a better Verity, her given name would be the one thing to remain with her always.

"Purpose for visiting the Ministry today, Miss Collins?" the face asked.

"I have an international portkey to London at 5:12 this morning."

All of a sudden, a badge bearing the words "Verity E. Collins, International Portkey Travel" appeared out of a slit in the tree and a large compartment opened up. "Please wear this badge for the entire length of your visit to the Ministry. Please insert your bag and wand into the compartment for a thorough inspection. They will be returned to you at the customs desk. Will that be all?"

"Yes," said Verity, trying not to let her voice shake. This was actually happening! She could hardly believe it. Who would have thought that the well behaved young witch from middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania would travel the world, all on her own?

"Please remain still," the voice reminded her. Slowly, the ground beneath her feet began to drop, and she was swallowed by the earth. After a few seconds of darkness, the world began to reappear beneath her feet. Despite herself, Verity gasped. It seemed so impossible that a place so large and so grand (and so woefully bureaucratic, she noted cynically) could be underground, but that was the power of magic. Large fireplaces lined both sides of a long, marble hall with a high arched roof, wizards appearing inside them, stepping out, and being replaced by more with mechanical accuracy. At the end of the hall, wizards Apparated and began walking immediately toward their destination without showing the slightest sign of dizziness. Where the hall met the even higher-ceilinged foyer, a large sign proclaimed, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic of the United States of America."

Verity began walking, keeping her eyes peeled for the customs desk and the International Portkey Terminal. Finally, she spotted it on the far side of the foyer. She approached the customs desk, staffed by a petite brown-haired witch hardly older than she who looked like she was about to have a panic attack and a kind-looking witch with gray hair who was trying to calm her down. "I lost the register of today's portkey travelers!" the girl wailed. "It's only my second day and I'm already a failure!" She looked as though she would burst into tears at any second.

"Calm down Eleanor," the older witch said. "Here." She raised her wand and said, "Accio portkey register." A thick looking file suddenly flew out from underneath a large stack of papers."

"Thank you ever so much Mrs. Silverman!" the girl cried. Verity cleared her throat.

"Sorry dearie," the woman, apparently Mrs. Silverman, replied. "What's your name?"

"Verity Collins," Verity said. Giving her name was fast becoming a common occurrence here in the bastion of wizarding bureaucracy.

The witch turned and searched through a large box behind the desk before reappearing with Verity's wand and backpack. "Here you go dearie. By the way, did you go to Salem?" Verity glanced down at her chest. She had practically forgotten she'd worn her well-loved Salem sweatshirt. "That's my alma mater. So many fond memories..." she trailed off.

"Yes, I just graduated this June. It was a great school." Verity stared at the woman, not in an unfriendly way, of course, but in a way that made it perfectly clear that this brief conversation was over. She had a portkey to catch and, even if she didn't, talking about the school that had given her the education she was completely abandoning in order to travel the world was not high on the list of topics she wanted to discuss.

Well, have a nice trip," the woman replied, obviously getting the hint. Verity thanked her and headed towards the terminal.

The terminal was rather uncrowded, though that didn't surprise Verity. Sunday wasn't a popular travelling day, and most people leaving to do business with other ministries would leave on Monday, at the start of the business week. She found the waiting area for the London portkey and checked the delicate gold watch her parents had given her for her seventeenth birthday. 5:01 a.m. Only eleven minutes until she would leave this continent behind for a new, grand adventure. There were only three others waiting for the portkey: two businessmen in the dark purple robes of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and a mousy looking woman firecalling someone who appeared to be her husband. The men were deep in conversation, though Verity thought she heard the word "Quidditch" pop up a few times. Perhaps they were helping with the Quidditch World Cup. The woman was talking more loudly, and sounded very nervous. "Remember," she told the small face in the green fire. "Isadora decided she doesn't like bananas anymore, so you can only give them to Melody and Christopher, but she'll probably change her mind in a couple of days. School starts at 8:00 sharp, so make sure you wake them up with plenty of time to eat and digest their breakfast so they don't get nauseous when you take them by Side-Along. Also, remember that Chris has quidditch practice Tuesday at 4 and the girls have a Gobstones practice meet on Wednesday at 3. And, for Merlin's sake, please make sure they don't leave their homework on the kitchen table yet again!" She paused to take a breath. "And don't-"

"Honey, it's fine," the man said. "We'll be fine. You'll only be at the conference for four days. I can handle it."

The woman sighed. "Okay, but if you need anything, anything at all, firecall me, no matter what time it is over in England."

"Okay. Love you," the man said.

"Love you too." The woman clicked the small device off and put it in her purse.

Verity realized she was staring at the woman and quickly looked away before the woman accused her of eavesdropping. Granted, she _had_ been eavesdropping, but the woman had just made it so darn easy. After what seemed like an eternity, the man at the front desk announced "5:12 to London. 5:12 to London. Leaving in thirty seconds" Verity stood up, and pulled on her backpack. This was it. She was really going. She took her place between one of the businessmen and the worried wife, and put her hand on the battered inkwell. The inkwell flashed blue and Verity felt the familiar tug behind her belly button as she was hurled through space. She stared intently at the base of one the businessmen's ties, determined not to get sick. Finally, her feel slammed into the ground and she slowly became aware of her surroundings. She nodded to the other travelers, who quickly walked off to whatever important business they were here to do and examined the sights around her.

She knew that the portkey would leave them in Diagon Alley rather than the British Ministry since it was just as secure but more open to reduce the risk of trampling and less crowded. She knew that Diagon Alley was a winding thoroughfare that was the main shopping, dining, and gathering place for all of the witches and wizards in England. She knew all that. But she sure as hell hadn't expected _this._ This was spectacular. This was lively. This was absolutely the most wonderful thing she'd seen in all of her eighteen years on this earth. This was what magic really felt like, and she was here to take part in it.

**Again, reviews are always appreciated. Is this story God's gift to fanfiction readers everywhere? Does it suck more than "My Immortal?" Is there an idea you have or a scene you'd like to see? Do you have a suggestion to make it better? Do you have any opinion at all? I must know these things!**


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